Lenny Dykstra, who patrolled centerfield, also was among the more than 2,000 mourners.

In Game 3 of the 1986 National League
Championship Series against the Astros, Dykstra hit one of the most
important home runs in Mets
history, a walk-off shot that drove in Backman. At 5-9, small for a
professional athlete, Dykstra personified the fire and toughness on a
team of fighters. He played all out, all the time. He was cocky and
brash.

Many of his former Mets
teammates had not seen him in years. All they knew of him were the
rumors -- that Dykstra, who had lived in mansions and flown in private
jets, was flat broke, sometimes sleeping in hotel lobbies. Now he was
under house arrest after being charged with federal bankruptcy fraud --
stealing and selling property that no longer belonged to him -- and he
needed the permission of a federal judge in Los Angeles to attend Carter's funeral.

Dykstra's appearance stunned his old teammates. No longer was he the
tough guy nicknamed Nails. His once-strong body was bent over. He looked
far older than his 49 years.

"His health, it looked like it was in
decline," former closer Jesse Orosco said. "He was a little bit slouched
over and he was talking a little different."

At times he was incoherent, Backman said. Through the mumbling, "it was hard to even understand Lenny."

Outside the church on a smoke break, Backman said Dykstra told him "that he expected to be dead within five years."

Tomorrow in federal court in Los Angeles, the fall of the former World Series
hero will reach a new low. He is scheduled to be sentenced on charges
of bankruptcy fraud, concealment of assets and money laundering. When he
pleaded guilty to those charges last summer, he admitted in court that
he stole and sold items from his bankruptcy estate, concealed items from
the trustee such as baseball memorabilia, and never reported the
profits.

Dykstra could face up to 20 years in
prison, but prosecutors asked U.S. District Judge Dean D. Pregerson to
sentence him to 2 1/2 years, explaining in a court filing that they
promised "a low-end recommendation" as part of Dykstra's plea deal.

Court filings lay bare Dykstra's drug use. "Defendant's illegal and
prescription substance abuse started in his playing days. Defendant
admits that he took Dexedrine, Adderall and Vicodin during his playing
career and then transitioned to other prescription painkillers such as
Percocet when he retired," court papers state. "This in addition to his
alcohol consumption, which at times was one liter of vodka per day."

The court papers do not address
whether Dykstra had prescriptions for the painkillers he used as a
major-leaguer. With prescriptions, the painkillers are not banned in
baseball.

This year, Dykstra already has been
sentenced to 3 years in prison for grand theft auto and filing a false
statement, and 9 months for exposing himself to women he met on
Craigslist and threatening one with a knife. The first sentencing took
place just over a week after Carter's funeral, which was Dykstra's last public appearance.

Prosecutors in the federal bankruptcy
fraud case described Dykstra's conduct in all these cases "consistent
with defendant's arrogant world view, that he could do what he wanted,
to whomever he wanted, with no repercussions."

Today, Dykstra's post-baseball financial successes -- once heralded on CNBC's "Mad Money" with Jim Cramer
-- seem far too good to be true. By last winter, a net worth estimated
in court papers at $58 million had evaporated. Dykstra's life after
baseball is the story of losses -- financial, personal and, with his
sentencing to prison, freedom.

Dykstra, a fan favorite who during
games always had a big wad of tobacco bulging out of his cheek, has
spent the last 10 months behind bars while awaiting sentencing. Through
the Metropolitan Detention Center warden, Dykstra declined an interview
request for this story.

Dozens of interviews and a review of thousands of pages of court
records show the remarkable journey Dykstra traveled -- from a
diminutive teenager in California who dreamed of the major leagues to
playing in the World Series, first for the Mets and later the Phillies. The theme that runs through his high school years to the courtroom in Los Angeles
is his unwillingness to acknowledge failure -- an asset in baseball.
But in real life, it too often led to a disregard for the consequences
of his actions.

"What made Lenny Lenny was his recklessness," Mookie Wilson
said. Wilson would know. In a 1987 game, Dykstra ran headlong into him
in the outfield while going for a fly ball. As determined as Dykstra was
to make the play, Wilson held on to the ball. Both collapsed onto the
grass.

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Baseball blog & comments on XM MLB 89 and others that "define the daily discourse" for money in order to please Bud Selig or vanity publisher bosses. I agree with Doug Pappas' statement: "Any writer meeting the Commissioner’s standards of ‘good journalism' should be fired.” I'm also a 'Saves Scholar.' Not affiliated with XM.